


Don't Play With Your Food

by markiboss (purplelly)



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Camping, Horror, M/M, Mermaids, mermaid!mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:15:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelly/pseuds/markiboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack’s parents took him camping for the week, and he makes a new, and quite terrifying, friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Play With Your Food

**Author's Note:**

> Another horror fic! This time with more plot, aha. And a lot longer. I spent way too much time on this. I’m pretty proud of it, so, it goes onto AO3 as well! I’m not sure what warnings to put? There’s some content such as a fish dying, and a lot of mentions of blood, but that’s p much it! If there are any other warnings, though, that you think should be added, msg me please! (PS it’s mermaid!mark!)

Within ten minutes of arriving, a broken branch caught in his sandals and made him trip, resulting in him taking a fall into pine needles and dirt. He stood with a throbbing toe, scraped palms and a sour attitude. 

The camp his parents have taken (kidnapped) him to was a secluded patch of land beaching a river. Actually, ‘beaching’ was too kind of a word - there wasn’t at all any sandy beaches, but rather, a long shoreline of jagged rocks before being submerged by the river. It belonged to his grandparents, technically; but members of the family were allowed to stay whenever. 

Until now, the ‘camp’ (an empty forest occasionally decorated with tents and fireplaces) had gone completely under Jack’s radar. In fact, he was sure his parents ignored the fact they had free access to this place. 

And then, one summer day, barely after school let out, his mother ordered him to pack his bags - they were going camping! _For an entire week!_

Maybe it was his parents coddling him all his life, or his obsession with his PS4, or just being a pissy teenager, but going out in the middle of nowhere with _only_ his immediate family and no tech sounds like hell on Earth. 

Jack has four siblings, but the three eldest are living on their own and ‘can’t find the time’ to go with them, and Jack’s sister, who is still in high school two grades above Jack, wanted to go out with friends and their parents reluctantly allowed her to. (In Jack’s eyes, that wasn’t fair at all - he certainly couldn’t use the same excuse.)

They brought a tent. It was very large, actually - his parents had bought it with everyone in mind. Turns out they didn’t need to waste their money. 

There was a gravel road leading into the camp. It led to several small clearings along the left of the road. Every clearing had a smeared, black stain in the middle, indicating previous use of a fireplace. 

His parents set up the tent and Jack wandered off, exploring the place he’d have to spend the next week in. 

There really wasn’t a whole lot. The most interesting was the river, though. Their ‘campsite’ had a steep decline into it, paved with cracked and algae-ridden rocks. Jack nearly slipped on them while checking out the murky water. 

Across the river, there was an island. It was small and lined with smooth rocks and broken trees that hadn’t fared well with past weather. A big white sign was nailed up to a jagged stump, reading in big red letters, ‘DAM AHEAD/DANGER/KEEP AWAY’. 

Just to make Jack feel safer. He remembered his parents mentioning the river lead to a dam somewhere downstream, but that the camp was far enough away that it was safe to swim in the water without being taken by the current. 

The sun beat down on him from above. Jack could feel beads of sweat form on his skull, making his head itchy. 

Maybe he should go for a swim. 

At the campsite, his parents finished setting up the tent. His mother was on the phone a distance away, presumably trying to convince one of his siblings to join them. His father had set up various lawn chairs around the fire pit, and was sipping a beer in one of them. 

When Jack emerged from the tent in swimming trunks, his father said something like ‘good idea’ while sweeping his brow, and his mother was still chatting on the phone. He made his way to the river. 

He climbed down the steep edge, and cautiously toed along the slippery rocks. When he was certain he wasn’t going to slip, he reached a foot into the water. 

It was fucking freezing. 

Jack pulled his foot out in reaction, but his quick movement put him off-balance. His other foot, planted on the wet rocks, slipped from underneath him, and he fell back on his ass. 

Jack groaned, first of the pain shooting up his spine, then of the cold water now drenching his upper half, then of both. 

When he finally regained himself, he decided it was safer to just scoot into the water from the rocks. Jack pushed himself forward, hissing and haa’ing of the cold, until he could stand safely with the water up to his waist. 

He let his body get used to the cold temperature, then sucked in a breath and plunged under. 

The sobering, icy-chill of the water left his teeth chattering upon surfacing. He splashed his face a few more times, forcing himself to get used to it, then laid on his back, his hands lightly treading water beside him. He closed his eyes. 

Jack could feel the sun’s rays behind his eyelids, but his ears were underwater. He could hear the muffled-ness of everything on the surface, and anything below it. He heard the swish of his hands as he pushed air into water, could faintly make out the current of the river. But mostly there was that pulsating deepness that water tends to have, similar to the sound of wind rushing past your ear. 

He felt something graze his back. Not unusual; there leaves and sticks littering the river. There was also the possibility of it being a fish. That would be cool. Jack guess it’d be bad if it was a shark, or something equally dangerous. But what’s the chance of that in a small river like this?

Then it did it again, except this time it didn’t feel like a leaf or the fin of a fish; it felt like fingers, with sharp fingernails, tracing his shoulder blades and trailing down his spine. 

Jack has never moved so fast in his life. He frantically splashed into an upright position and swam in a desperate-frontcrawl towards the rocks. 

A hand clamped down on his ankle, pulling him back, and Jack sucked in a breath, preparing to scream--

“Wait! Stop, please!” 

The voice had Jack’s lungs deflating and the scream dying on his tongue. He turned to see a boy standing behind him.

This boy is about his age, with thick, black hair sticking to his head. He’s shirtless, the water covering him from the waist down. Beads of river water dripped down his chest. 

He is a _very pretty_ boy.

“Uh,” Jack yanked his eyes away from the boy’s chest. “Wh-Who are you?” 

The boy smiled, and Jack thought his smile was odd. His teeth didn’t appear to be clearly defined; it seemed like they all meshed together in a yellowish mass. “I’m Mark. And you?” 

“Jack,” Jack replied. “And _Mark_ , you scared the absolute shit outta me! Don’t do that again, it’s weird.” 

Mark looked guilty. “Sorry. I was trying to get your attention.” 

It was Jack’s turn to look apologetic for snapping. “Oh. Sorry.”

He looked up and down the river, a thought occurring to him. 

“Where’s your camp? I thought we were the only ones here,” Jack asked. 

Mark grinned, and Jack realized his teeth weren’t human teeth at all, but actually very thin and very small and appeared to be like needles. “Oh, I’m not a camper. I guess I’m more of an... _inhabitant_ of the river.”

Jack’s eyebrows knit together, but before he could ask, there was movement beside him. The water bulged and something red gleamed beneath the glassy surface; then the water broke and a scaly red tail flicked specks of water onto Jack’s nose. 

Jack had enough sense to jerk backwards, a curse leaving his lips as his eyes widened in surprise. 

Mark burst into braying laughter, his open mouth showing off the needle-teeth, so thin and fine they could have been the hairs on a brush. Jack wondered if they were like porcupine quills, with tiny curled ends that grip and tear. He hoped he doesn’t find out.

He brought a hand up to his face, possibly an attempt to cover his mouth, and Jack noticed sharp, curled red claws and fins along his forearm. 

“What the fuck _are_ you?” Jack asked, bewildered, questioning if he should be afraid. 

Mark’s laughter stopped, but his manic grin remained. 

“What? You never seen a mermaid before?” Mark asked. He splashed water with his tail and Jack flinched. 

“Well, _no_ ,” Jack said. “I mean, before this, I never thought mermaids were... _real_.”

Mark snickered and almost burst into big laughter again, but he held his tongue. “Yeah, I’m pretty rare. And that means you must be pretty lucky!”

Jack blinked. Looked over the tail, still hovering on the surface of the water. He tentatively reached a hand out and brushed the fins. 

Mark shivered, and Jack drew his hand back. 

“Sorry,” Jack said. 

“No, no, it’s alright,” Mark shrugged. “Just feels a little weird. Not bad, but weird.”

Jack nodded. His fingers resumed tracing the spines along the fins. 

One time Jack’s dad took him fishing. He didn’t take an interest in it. His dad was catching one after another, while his line had stayed perfectly still. 

Until his pole nearly flew out of his hands by the sudden strength of what was on the other end of the line. His Pa reached out to help and they reeled the catch in together.

It ended up being a catfish. His father pat him on the back proudly, and unhooked the fish for him. For all of ten minutes, the catfish’s home was inside a bucket full of river water, where it swam in circles the whole time. Jack had marveled at his catch, and had mustered enough courage to reach a hand in. It swam past his fingers very fast, in an attempt to find an escape when there was none. In the brief moments Jack was able to touch the fish, he felt the smooth and slimy scales and the spines in the fin of its back poking into his palm. 

As time went on, however, a murky scarlet darkened the water. The hook had torn something inside the fish, his gills, probably, and its blood was coloring the water fast. 

When his father freed the poor guy, he reassured Jack it’ll be fine, fish survive far more horrible circumstances, but Jack, at that time nine, had walked away with a sickened stomach. He had nightmares of bloody water for days after.

Now, Mark’s fin felt much like the catfish’s. It had spines supporting the thinner skin. The fin itself lead to shining red scales, that felt smooth under his fingertips. 

During Jack’s curious inspection, Mark had not made any sounds or movement to issue discomfort. In fact, if Jack’s fingers pressed too hard against one spot, he emitted a poorly hidden giggle.

“How long have you been in the river?” Jack asked. 

Mark thought. “All my life? I don’t know how long that is to you as humans.” He paused. “Are you living up here?”

Jack shook his head. “No. We’re camping for the week. This area of land,” He paused to gesture to the steep incline behind them. “Belongs to my grandparents. My parents decided to take me with them. My siblings were supposed to come, but, eh. They had other stuff.” He shrugged.

Mark’s smile seemed to stretch wider. “You are only with your parents?”

Jack nodded, albeit cautiously. He didn’t quite like Mark’s smile. It set off alarms in Jack’s head, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to the campsite, in the safe area of his parents.

“W-Well,” He scratched the back of his head. “They’re probably wondering where I went. I’ll...see you later?” He started to move backwards, using his feet to navigate past the sharp-edged rocks.

Mark’s grin didn’t falter. “Okay! Don’t want to worry them! See you!” He waved as Jack climbed the slippery rocks and up the hill, and Jack slightly regretted his hastiness to leave. Mark was the only other person - er, mermaid? - who seemed about his age in this area, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna spend the next week with his parents.

The campsite remained the same as it was the last time Jack had seen it, just this time there was a fire in the fire pit and his dad was poking it with a branch. Jack wasn’t sure if he was trying to help the fire burn or put it out. His mother still had the phone to her ear, but a moment later she huffed and shoved it in her pocket.

“I’m sorry, guys,” She said, coming over to the fire pit. “Everyone is just so busy this week. Quinn might be coming eventually, she’s just staying at a friend’s for a few days.” She noticed Jack, standing near the fire and trying to dry off. “Jack, did you go swimming?”

He nodded, and debated telling them about Mark. He wondered if Mark even wanted other people to know about him. Then he decided that they wouldn’t believe him anyway if he tried to tell them. 

“Yeah, Ma,” Jack said. “It’s freezing though.”

“Is it?” Ma said. “I was thinking about jumping in. Is the current too fast? Wouldn’t want to get swept away now.” She giggled. 

“Nah,” Jack shook his head. “There’s an island, though. Bet I could swim to it.”

“I’d prefer if you stayed over here,” Pa spoke up. “Who knows what could be over there?” 

Jack shrugged. He might have argued, maybe convinced them to let him explore, but after finding Mark, he too is questioning what lay within the river, and the island. 

The night is spent mostly in silence. They roasted hot dogs over the fire and ate small bags of chips, and Jack tuned out their conversation and tried to listen to the water. His back was to the rushing current; was Mark out there now? Watching, listening?

It unnerved him. After their fire-cooked meal, Jack turned in early, setting up his sleeping bag close to his parent’s. 

But he wasn’t scared. No, of course not. Mark’s sharp teeth and grin that could challenge the Joker didn’t scare him at all. Maybe that’s just how all mermaids smile. He’s never actually met one, so he shouldn’t just judge on appearance, right?

He wasn’t scared, but he stayed awake until his parents settled in the tent beside him, and he felt safe enough to drift off.

\---

The next morning was eating donuts from a box and orange juice from the cooler they brought with them. 

Ma had brought a kettle, and her and Pa had been trying to set it up to make coffee. There were a pile of old bricks for whatever reason at their site, and Pa built it into a small chimney. He stuffed pine needles and sticks into the bottom of it, lit a stick on fire and tried to get the mini chimney smoking. When the fire took hold, he put the kettle (filled with ground coffee beans and water from a water bottle) on top and waited. 

Jack didn’t stick around long to know if it worked. The river seemed to be drawing him in. He’ll admit he’s curious about Mark. He’s just cautious about what he doesn’t know. 

His swimming trunks were still damp from the day before, and Jack has noticed sand in the hems of the shorts. Dirt was also beginning to stain the bottoms of his feet. Around here, there wasn’t much need for shoes, except if you happen to step on a sharp stick. But otherwise Jack had been fine going shoe-less, but his feet were beginning to pay the price. He wondered if his feet will be recognizable by the end of the week.

When Jack got to the slippery rocks, he looked up and down the river. There’s no sign of Mark. 

He hesitated before wading in. The whole point of him returning to the river was to ask Mark questions. It hadn’t occurred to him what’d he do if Mark wasn’t here. 

Deciding a swim couldn’t hurt, Jack sat on the rocks and slid in - he swore his ass still ached from the day before.

It was as cold as yesterday, but Jack didn’t quite care. He got in the water quicker than the day before, yet it still left him shivering. He waded out until the water was up to his waist. 

The island didn’t look very different. The giant sign was still there, and the giant overturned tree half-submerged in the water hadn’t moved, either. He wondered if that’s where Mark lives. Or maybe he just wanders in the river, much like a fish, until something interesting happens. 

He felt sudden movement around his legs, but before Jack could react, there were hands on his waist and someone pressed up against his back.

“Hey, Jack,” Mark’s voice came from behind him. “Back so soon?”

Jack could feel Mark’s sharp claws dig slightly into his hips. It made him shiver; not entirely out of fear, but also of...something else. 

“Uh,” Jack wasn’t sure if he should move. He probably should. Definitely. “It’s been...A day, already. I haven’t seen you since yesterday.” 

“Oh, really?” Mark asked. His hands were removed and Jack let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mark swam around Jack until he was floating on his back. 

“Sorry. I don’t usually keep track of the days. I’m usually under,” Mark said, glancing at the river. 

Jack followed his gaze. The water was much darker the farther you swam out. “What’s down there?” 

Mark shrugged. “Rocks. Sand. Fish. Nothing interesting, really. You humans probably can’t see much down there, not without a light or those things you put on your faces.” He used his hands to circle his eyes. 

“Goggles?” Jack suggested. “Yeah, probably. It’s dark as shit down there.” He peered into the water just a few feet in front of him, where the safety of the rocks under his feet dropped off. 

“The island over there is pretty cool, though,” Mark said, looking over his shoulder. “The rocks in the front of it make a pool, where the current doesn’t affect it. It’s also much more warmer than the rest of the river. I like to relax there sometimes.”

“I can’t go over there,” Jack said, his shoulders slumping. “My Pa told me not to.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t human teenagers supposed to be rebellious?”

Jack scrunched his nose at him. “Yeah, sure we are. We also get a thing called ‘grounded’ if we don’t listen to our parents.”

Mark cocked his head. “Grounded? So, you aren’t allowed to swim?”

_Not quite_ , Jack thought, but didn’t think it worth the effort to correct him. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh,” Mark treading water a moment. Then he suddenly swam up to Jack, grabbing his wrists. 

“You’re barely wet,” Mark noticed. “Come swimming, you big baby.” He dragged Jack in the water before any cries of disagreement flew from the boy’s mouth. 

Jack was brought into deeper water, and he needed to tread to keep his head above. Mark swam around him, smiling, and emitting little giggles from time to time. 

“Not a swimmer?” Mark teased. 

“Not really!” Jack said. “It’s freezing!” 

“Not if you live in it,” Mark said. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t live in it, you ass,” Jack swam back to where he could feel rocks jutting into his feet.

He was about to turn back around to Mark when a new voice caught his attention. 

“Jack! You down there? How’s the water?”

His Ma and Pa were making their way down the hill, each dressed in their swim suits. 

Instead of responding, Jack turned to Mark. To say something, a warning, maybe, but he found Mark was gone. Nothing but the current in the river. 

“Uh, the water’s cold,” Jack called back. 

His parents tried their way across the rocks, and his father made the same mistake; Pa fell flat on his ass trying to delicately step into the water. His Ma, after a braying bout of laughter, chose the wiser route and sat down to slide in. 

They both had a hard enough time getting used to the cold. Jack found, after a few minutes standing there, he hadn’t much noticed the water’s temperature. 

His parents stayed in the river for a couple hours, after having grown used to the cold like Jack had. They splashed each other, swam around a bit, but mostly sat on the rocks and enjoyed the coolness compared to the hot summer day.

At one point, Jack thought he saw a gleam of red scales from deep in the water. It was gone when he looked again, but he had a feeling Mark never truly left. 

Still, Mark never again appeared on that day. Even when Jack climbed back into the river in the evening, where it was slightly warmer from the day’s sun, he did not appear. 

So the next day - they were three days into this trip, now - Jack woke early and dressed early, eating breakfast briefly before making his way to the river. His Pa might have commented on his eagerness, but Jack didn’t bother responding. 

It seemed like Mark was waiting for him. He was sitting on a rock - as well as you can sit with a tail - picking his claws between his teeth. Whatever he found, he flicked into the water. 

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, stepping carefully to where Mark was perched. 

“Finishing my breakfast,” Mark said. It was slightly slurred, as he stuck a finger in his mouth and dug around in between his needle-teeth. He seemed to find what was irritating him and pinched it between two claws; something small and white. He flicked it in the water. 

“What was that?” Jack asked. 

“My breakfast?” Mark repeated. “Just the leftovers, the parts that aren’t so good.” 

“What’s your breakfast?” Jack asked. “Wait, do I want to know?” 

Mark laughed. “It’s just a fish! I just caught a fish this morning and ate it. What’s with the interest in my diet?”

“Just curious,” Jack shrugged. “I’ve never met a mermaid before. Not sure what to expect.”

“I’ll teach you,” Mark said. 

“What?” 

“Teach you how to catch a fish,” Mark repeated, his lip lifting in a smirk. 

Jack grimaced. “I’m not eating a raw fish.” 

“You don’t have to eat it!” Mark said. “Just catch it! It’s fun!” 

“I’ve caught fish before,” Jack said. His mind drew back to that scarlet-brown water in a dirty and beaten bucket, with that fish that was doomed to die. “It wasn’t much fun.”

“Oh, with those weird pole-things? With the sharp hooks on the end?” Mark asked. “Those things don’t work. Well, I guess they do, but it seems like a cheap option, you know? It’s much more fun with hands!” He showed off his claws. 

Jack thought about arguing more, but what was the harm in trying? He sighed and nodded, and Mark practically bounced in the water. He took Jack’s hands and lead him farther into the river. 

“Okay, so over here is a pretty big rock, just below the surface,” Mark warned, a second too late. Jack scraped his knee off the rock and hissed in pain. 

“Stop being a baby,” Mark chastised. He crawled on top of the rock, belly down, and peered over the edge. “There’s a pretty big drop off here, and if you wait long enough, a fish outta swim by.” 

Jack, mourning over his stinging knee, begrudgingly laid down next to the mermaid and peered into the drop off. The water was pretty clear today, but it still darkened the deeper the river went. 

They sat on the rock for a long while. When Jack tried to start a conversation, Mark shushed him, and continued watching the water. 

Then suddenly, there was movement. Jack caught a flash of something swimming past, somewhere deep in the drop off. 

Mark was quickly off the rock. His tail slapped Jack across the face as Mark dived into the drop off, speeding after the fish. 

For a minute or so, Jack was alone atop of Big Rock, watching the water for the flash of red scales, or any movement at all. He was about to give up and go the shoreline when Mark’s head popped up out of the water, a writhing fish in between his jaws. 

“You caught one,” Jack said. Mark nodded, quite proud, it seemed, and leaped up onto Big Rock.

He took the fish in his hands, embedding the claws into the sides, and took a giant chomp into the fish’s back. He tore away with the brutality of an animal, ripping out meat and the long spine. His teeth were small and sharp, not meant to pulverize, but to rip and tear. Scales flew off the meat, sticking onto Mark’s hands, face, or dropping into the water. The fish’s blood ran down Mark’s arms and dripped from his mouth. The fish gave one spastic shake, before stilling.

Jack turned away and gagged. Now that he thought about it, he could _smell_ the thing. The dead thing bleeding and being eaten by Jack’s new friend. It smelled like the river, but there was something else too, something that clung to the back of Jack’s throat like a sour candy too hard to swallow. It was the stink of the blood, the stuff inside the fish, and it made his stomach flip.

Jack scrambled off the rock as fast as he could, mumbling some excuse of getting his own lunch. He tried to move fast, _get to the shoreline, get to the shoreline_ , but he saw the redness of the dead thing mixing with the brown of the river and now his whole body felt much more dirtier than before.

When he got back to the campsite, taking deep, slow breaths, Jack realized how silly it was to freak out over a dead fish. He’d _eaten_ fish before - granted, it was deep-fried, but he’d eaten it before. So why was he freaking out so much?

He guessed it was just the shock of seeing such an animal act. He tore into the fish like a chicken leg! Though, to Mark, eating like that must be normal. Seeing Jack eat with silverware might be just as foreign a concept to the mermaid. 

Jack ate lunch with his folks, and hesitated before going back to the river. He didn’t want to stumble upon Mark, still finishing his lunch, probably picking scales from under his claws and in between his tiny teeth. 

Yet, when Jack reached the river, Mark was floating on his back, as content as someone that just finished a big meal. He grinned toothily at Jack’s return. 

“Hey! Made off pretty quick, didn’t you?” Mark said. “How was your lunch?”

“Good,” Jack said, but couldn’t at the moment remember what he had eaten. 

“Are you okay? You look sick,” Mark said, and his grin faltered, but never left completely. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jack cleared his throat. “Just. You eating that fish earlier kinda bothered me.”

Mark cocked his head. “But you humans eat weird all the time! Why do you have those flat stone-things you put food on all the time? Just hold it!” 

“They’re called plates,” Jack answered absentmindedly. “It surprised me, is all. At least give me a warning next time.” 

Mark’s grin was wide enough it took half capacity of his face. “Sure.”

They swam around some in the evening, but due to Ma calling, Jack had to leave. His fingers were prune-y and his shoulders ached of a sunburn from days out in the sun, but he couldn’t help his curiosity by returning to the river. 

He had a nightmare that night. He was swimming in deep, dark water, and he couldn’t breathe. He had to find the way up but he couldn’t see, it was too dark. He felt like he was swimming in circles. The water kept getting darker, and darker, redder and redder, and Jack somehow knew it was his blood coloring the water and he had to get up to the surface to breathe and find something to help his bleeding--

He woke in a cold sweat and didn’t sleep much more. He hadn’t had that dream since he was a little kid.

When Jack got up the next morning, he ate a hasty breakfast and changed into his trunks that never fully dried overnight and headed to the river. He’s heard his Pa comment to his Ma about his apparent obsession with the water, but little do they know it’s not the water, but what inhabits it, that he’s currently obsessed with. 

No. Obsessed it too strong. _Curious,_ more like. An insatiable curiosity, bogged down - or, maybe, _strengthened_ \- by his fear. He was certainly still afraid of Mark, of this creature he didn’t know existed a week ago, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to know more. 

And Jack was not willing to admit to himself that Mark was attractive. The guy was _half fish,_ it would be _weird_. 

But he does know that Mark’s strangely stretched grin, his sharp teeth, his red claws that sometimes grazed against Jack’s skin; it always made Jack uneasy, but in an excited sort of way.

Before Jack could escape to the river, his Pa called to him that they might run to the store and if Jack will be okay left alone. Jack called back an affirmation, yes, Pa, he will be alright. And Jack was free to leave. 

Mark had heard. He was sitting on the rocks, skipping smaller ones across the surface of the river. 

“Your parents are leaving?” Mark asked. 

“Just heading to get more food,” Jack said. “They’ll probably be back later.”

“Oh.” Mark eyed the island across the river. “Want to check the island out? Now that there’s no one to stop you...”

Jack was tempted to agree. The island had always been a nagging thought in the back of his mind, and his Pa prohibiting it made it harder to ignore. 

There were times where he has gone against his parent’s wishes. ‘Don’t steal from the cookie jar’ and later caught with crumbs dropping from his chin. He’s violated his curfew too many times to count, half of which his parents don’t know about. He’s hung out with people his parents warned him to stay away from, he’s gotten drunk and he’s underage, he’s driven _while_ drunk and underage(a mistake he regrets til this day, but he’s not remorseful enough to admit it to his parents). 

Summary is, Jack has broken countless rules, so what’s one more?

“Sure,” Jack agreed. “I’ve wanted to explore it.”

“Sweet!” Mark took Jack’s hand - an action that had Jack weak in the knees - and began to swim across. 

Jack was not as fast a swimmer as Mark. He tried to, but after inevitably bashing his knees and stubbing his toes on the rocks hidden underwater, he called Mark to slow the fuck down. Mark did, slightly, and Jack suffered less - _slightly_  less - damage to his legs.

The island really wasn’t that hard to climb up. The rocks surrounding it were smoother and less slippery - at least, the ones above surface were. It was shallow and Jack could easily find his way onto land. 

“It’s just over this side that there’s a small pool,” Mark said, gesturing to the water just past the crest of rocks. 

The island did form a small pool, much like a gulf. Here the river’s current did not affect the water as much. 

The large tree that Jack had spotted from the campsite lead into the gulf. It stemmed into two long, thick branches and it’s trunk was partially under water. As Mark swam into the gulf, Jack climbed on top of the tree and held his arms out for balance. He made his way down the trunk, which could function as a diving board, Jack thought, and peered into the water. 

“How deep is it?” Jack asked. 

“Pretty deep,” Mark said. “You gonna jump?” 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jack said, and pushed himself off the tree. 

When he plunged into the gulf, he realized the water was not as deep as he expected. He landed, hard, on the rocky bottom - actually, it wasn’t just rocks anymore. He was sure he felt a branch or two. _Sharp_ branches. They tore into his foot and Jack broke the surface screaming. 

Spitting curses, Jack frantically swam to the rocks above surface and climbed up. His right foot stung like a bitch, and raising it out of the water, he could see the blood dripping from it. A long gash directly on the soft part of his foot was the source. Jack bit his thumb to keep from yelling. 

Mark was by his side. He lifted himself out of the water and had one hand on Jack’s shoulder, the other gently inspecting the injury. A stream of the blood ran over his hand, but Mark didn’t appear to notice.

“You said it was fuckin’ deep,” Jack hissed. 

“I guess I miscalculated,” Mark said absently. His thumb brushed over Jack’s wound and Jack yanked his foot back in pain. 

“Don’t fucking touch it, it hurts!” Jack cried. 

“Sorry,” Mark said. “Put it in the river, wash it off. I’ll take you back over to get it covered up. You humans have things called bandages, right?”

Jack nodded, and let his foot dangle in the river. He watched the blood swirl with the murky brown water and felt a rising sickness. Next to Jack, gone unnoticed, Mark popped the bloody thumb in his mouth and sucked. 

“Take me back over,” Jack said. 

Mark let his hand fall to the river and washed off Jack’s blood. “I’ll carry you, so you won’t step on anything else.”

Before Jack could argue, Mark scooped Jack in his arms, bridal-style. Jack let out a surprised yelp, but didn’t say much else as Mark exited the gulf and swam back over the river. He was mainly trying to keep his racing heart calm, and not focus on the hands that held him, or the bare chest pressed up against him.

Mark set him on the shoreline closest to Jack’s camp, and watched him limp up the hill. 

“Thanks, Mark,” Jack called, and Mark grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. 

Jack’s parents returned not too long after Jack had found the first-aid and slapped a bandage on his foot. His mother fretted, re-doing the poor job he did, and his Pa wondered if they should have gotten water shoes for this trip. 

To ease his parent’s worrying (and because his foot argued with him over every step he took) he stayed out of the water for the rest of the day. He wasn’t sure if he should even get in the water again this week. His mother worried that the dirty water (”and god knows what _else_ is thrown in there!”) would infect the gash.

So when he did go down to the river the following day, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and reassured his parents that he wasn’t going swimming, just hanging out by the water’s edge. 

Mark was there, like Jack expected. He seemed eager today, and his grin stretched further - if that was possible. It seemed to falter at seeing Jack fully dressed. 

“You’re not swimming?” Mark asked. 

“No,” Jack shook his head sadly. “My Ma’s worried about my foot. Figure it’d make her feel better to stay out of the water for now.”

“Probably for the best,” Mark agreed, but his grin didn’t seem as big anymore. 

“But I’ll still hang out with you,” Jack smiled. “You’re pretty fun to be with, Mark. I kinda wish I could stay up here longer.”

Mark put a hand up to his chest, in a way that said he was flattered. “Aw, thanks, Jack!” He paused. “It’s been really nice to spend time with you. I’m gonna miss your handsome face.” His lip lifted in a smirk, and Jack found it hard not to blush. 

For most of the day, they chatted over trivial things. Jack told him all about his siblings, and how they all abandoned him here, and Mark listened. At some point Mark splashed him and a war begun, ending with Jack soaked through his clothes. He got an earful from his Ma later, but he didn’t regret it.

Before Jack could be called away, Mark had grabbed a hold of Jack’s wrist. 

“Could you meet me tonight, here?” Mark asked. “I have something to show you.”

Jack’s face had gone red and he had a vague idea what that something might be. “Like...how late? Tonight?”

“After your parents are asleep?” Mark suggested. 

Jack thought that could be around midnight, but he didn’t want to say no. He nodded, and Mark grinned again. He squeezed his wrist once, then let go, and Jack left. 

He did wait. He went to bed early, and pretended to be asleep when his parents got settled. He waited until their breathing became even and deep, and waited an hour just to be sure they were asleep. Then he got up, and dressed in a tank-top and shorts, he slipped out of their tent and headed to the river. 

Mark was waiting. He rested his head on his arms and smiled at Jack as he climbed down the slope and knelt in front of him. 

“What is it?” Jack asked. 

And Mark reached his clawed hands up, grabbed the sides of Jack’s face, and pressed their lips together.

Jack let out a surprised sound, but it didn’t take him long to kiss back. He pushed forward and loosely gripped Mark’s forearms. Mark’s hands gripped tightly into Jack’s hair and behind his neck. 

Then, Mark was moving, moving back into the water, and bringing Jack with him. Jack thought about pulling away, but the idea of making out underwater was too tempting. So he let his body be pulled into the icy chill of the river. 

At first, it the best feeling Jack had ever known. Wanting to kiss the creature that had become his friend was a desire that grew as the week went on. Kissing him now, it was exactly as he had imagined it.

He didn’t notice Mark swimming deeper and deeper until his ears popped and his lungs started to ache for air. He pulled away and tried to swim up - but the arms in his hair and on his neck held him still. 

Jack opened his eyes, and everything around him was a blur, but he could make out a distinct shape in front of him. This shape had a halo of black hair, but it’s eyes were much narrower than Jack remembered, and his grin much wider. So wide, it seemed to split Mark’s face in half. His teeth were parted, that much Jack could tell, and a blurry form of Mark’s tongue seemed to run over his cheek, to his chin, and across his face. 

Jack struggled against the grip on his arms, panic rising up within him. Mark’s grip on him tightened, his claws digging into Jack’s skin and Jack began to feel his skin breaking and knew there was blood seeping into the water around them.

His lungs _hurt,_ was stabbing pains all over his chest, and he kicked in the water but he couldn’t stand a chance against a creature born to swim.

He could hear rumbling through the water, and even though it was muffled, Jack could hear Mark’s voice - Jack could hear Mark _laughing_. The mermaid’s tongue swept all around his face, against his cheeks, his chin, inside his mouth, and then licking up the bloody spots at Jack’s neck.

He was in trouble, Jack understood that now. Mustering what strength he could, Jack reeled his head back and bashed as hard as he could against Mark’s. 

It would not have had the same effect had they been on land. The water cushioned much of the blow, but it still knocked Mark back enough, surprised him enough, that his grip briefly loosened on Jack’s arms. 

Jack, thrashing wildly, and managed to free himself. He navigated blindly up to the surface, following only which way his body floated. The water was too dirty to make any sense where light came from or stopped.

There was movement around him, he could feel it, water rushing by his legs or his arms, and he was sure any moment he would be grabbed and yanked to the depths. 

He saw the surface. The moon was a wavering, blurry figure on the other side, and his fingers had just broke the surface, felt the cool air produced by night on his skin, before something griped his ankle and pulled him down at an alarming speed.

The sudden attack had Jack gasping, the precious air he held in his lungs escaping in a burst of bubbles. He swallowed water in return, inhaled it, and he wanted to cough, wanted to gag, but he needed air to push the dirty water swimming in his lungs and stomach out. 

Clawed hands dug into his thighs, his sides, and gripped his arms to keep him still. The water turned dark around him, no longer illuminated by the weak moonlight, and Jack wanted to cry but the tears would mix with the river and whatever-else had been thrown in here. 

He could feel Mark wrap himself around Jack, his hands holding down Jack’s arms, his tail wrapped around his legs. Jack tried to struggle, he really did, but fatigue was setting in and he didn’t want to, not really.

A clawed hand gripped his throat, and Jack later wondered if Mark thought he was killing him faster, when in fact he prevented Jack from swallowing even more river water.

He could feel something like brush bristles caress his shoulder and move down his arm. They were sharp, needle-like brush bristles.

The knowledge of being a mermaid’s meal made some last semblance of energy appear. He kicked, kicked _hard_ , and felt his foot connect with what felt like stone. He knew vaguely his foot had lost its bandage and was probably bleeding, and it stung as he moved it now, probably getting infected by the dirty water and god-knows-what-else. He kicked the stone again and knocked it loose.

They were at the bottom of the river, with the rocks, sand, fish and nothing interesting. Jack could tell Mark was in a kind of sitting position, and the way he was wrapped around Jack caused Jack to be in that position as well. Occasionally, Jack could feel Mark’s tail brush up against his ankles. 

Lifting his foot and mustering up the last bit of his strength, he pressed down, hard onto Mark’s tail, and kicked again, then again, until he could feel the sharp rocks poke the thin part of Mark’s tail, and kicked once more so the rocks broke through the fragile skin.

The screech the mermaid made was incredible, even if muffled by the water. Mark’s claws on his throat tightened, and for one second Jack feared he was going to tear his throat out. But the water made it hard to keep his grip, and Jack moving around so much didn’t help, so instead of ripping out his throat, Mark’s claws raked down Jack’s chest. He was bleeding, but the minute he could feel his release, Jack swam as fast as he could to the surface. 

He was blacking out. The lack of oxygen made him dizzy and he wasn’t quite sure if he was even moving up. Jack just swam. His chest hurt, both within his aching his lungs and along the shallow scratches, but they were starting to become distant pains now. He was becoming distant himself. The water darkened with a murky, scarlet hue.

Then he broke the surface and sucked in air and the pain was suddenly excruciating. Jack kept back whines and whimpers as he crawled up to the shoreline, not sure if he was even close to his camp. He was breathing heavy, sucking in the air that was taken away. A bubbling in his stomach had him dodging his head to the side and retching up the river water (and god knows what else). 

His throat burned, his body was cold and tired. Jack climbed up the jagged rocks, slowly, until his body was completely out of the water. He was prepared to crawl the rest of the way back to the campsite, when a smooth voice drew out of the river. 

“ _Jacky, don’t leave me.”_

Jack froze. He shivered for an all new reason. He was afraid, terrified, of the creature now, the thing that he had kissed and thought he was falling for.

“ _I wasn’t lying. You were fun to talk to. And pretty cute.”_

Jack turned to the lake. It was smooth, and still, like nothing had happened beneath its depths. Where was he?

“ _But I’ve gotta eat. It’s not often some easy prey sets up camp nearby.”_

Where was his voice coming from?

“ _I gotta admit though.”_

Jack has to leave. Has to leave _now_. Not taking his eyes off the lake, he climbed backwards up the steep slope.

“ _I_ love _playing with my food.”_

A splash beside him. Jack screamed in horror as Mark leaped out of the water, and now Jack knew that Mark’s grin really _does_ split his jaw in half, with tongues - _multiple_ \- wriggling between needle teeth like helpless slugs.

Jack threw his hands over his face and screamed, screamed with the air he’s managed to gain back and awaited being pulled back into the river, knowing he would be unable to save himself a third time.

When hands grabbed him, though, they did not pull him _into_ the river, but rather _away_ from it. Jack felt soft grass on his back and let his arms fall from his face to see a light shined into his eyes.

“Jack? Jack, honey, can you hear me?” 

The sound of his Ma’s voice could’ve made him cry in relief. Jack picked himself up despite the achy soreness in his muscles and practically fell into his mother’s lap. His father was there, too, and held a flashlight as he looked over Jack for injuries.

“Sean, Jack, you’re bleeding,” He said. “What the hell happened to you?”

“You’re bleeding?!” Ma repeated, and found the long gash across his chest. “It looks like something attacked you!”

Jack wanted to tell them, wanted nothing more than to spill his guts, but something in his addled brain told him that they wouldn’t believe him. Even if he tried to speak, he was sure nothing but an indistinguishable whisper would come out. The muscles in his throat has not only been crushed, he has also inhaled copious amounts of water. 

At the moment, Jack wanted to be as far from the river as he could be. His Ma and Pa helped him back to the campsite, and his Ma fretted over his injuries. After clearing his throat, Jack came up with the excuse he fell in the river and the river has many sharp rocks and branches, you know, and one raked him down the chest on his fall. His mother looked sharply at him, searching for a lie, but when his gaze did not break away she sighed and said no more.

Ma sent him to bed, but now Jack was too paranoid. He was away from the river now, but Mark was still there, Mark was still watching, listening. Jack knows nothing about him, so what if he could get on land? What if he was waiting for Jack to sleep, so he could sneak in and finish what he started?

Laying in the dark of the tent, with sleep far, far away despite his exhaustion, the night’s events truly sunk in. Mark had been leading him on this whole time. He’d been betrayed - _Et tu, Brute?_ The thought almost made him laugh. Almost.

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to be asleep in case Mark appeared in his tent. He didn’t want to sleep in case of more nightmares. Of scarlet water choking him, of needle-teeth sinking into his skin, of red claws tearing out his throat. He didn’t want to sleep, but he did. The exhaustion won in the end and he couldn’t fight back.

_He was helpless._

Surprisingly, there was no nightmares. No dreams, either. His mind was too exhausted to conjure up any images.

He woke, and exited the tent. He didn’t feel much better than the night before. His Ma changed the bandages wrapped around his chest and once again gave him the sharp eye, the one trying to find a hint he was hiding the truth, and again Jack repeated his lie and held her gaze. She sighed and looked away first.

Jack sat in a lawn chair facing directly into the river. He never took his eyes away. He silently dared Mark to show his face.

They packed the tent that day. They folded up the sleeping bags and the lawn chairs, the tent in a folded little cube, and shoved them in the trunk of their van. The coolers pushed neatly against the sides and everything else in the middle, and Jack in the back seat with his bag of clothes in his lap. His eye honed in on the river.

He swore, as they got further and further from their site, Jack saw a dark figure in the river waving to them.

Jack didn’t pay much attention to their parent’s conversations as they decided the directions for home. But one sentence did stick out for him.

Ma managed to convince his siblings to take a week off. Next week, they’ll be coming back, with _all_ of his siblings this time.


End file.
